


ours is the never wilting garden

by sandstorms



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Butterflies, Distortion of Religious Figures, Jun from seventeen is briefly mentioned because i love him, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sooo... this is a apocalypse au?, and donghyuck is the last person on earth, renjun is something like a grim reaper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27510271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandstorms/pseuds/sandstorms
Summary: Tripping on love at the end of the world happens to be quite complicated. Who would've thought?
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: '00 FIC FEST ROUND TWO





	ours is the never wilting garden

**Author's Note:**

> (prompt #00320) 
> 
> Prompter, I'm soo sorry. Really, I lost the point of this story and transformed your fantastic prompt into a mess. I hope you can forgive me one day. And mod Bom, thank you so much for your patience, really!
> 
> Also, I consider this a pretty light story but if you think I missed any important warning, don't hesitate in warning me.

The ending of the world happens to fall on a Sunday. 

The sky is clean of clouds where the sun shines and in the places night had reclaimed her rights over darkness the moon brings all the stars to her like magnets, making a show of the blanket of the world. It's staggering and humans topple over each other to take pictures or make plans of sleeping outdoors in the days to come. It's also pitiable, how naive they can be. 

Renjun wakes up for the Last Day in worn-out satin pyjamas. He brushes his teeth, and wraps himself in a coat that's never too hot for summer nor too cold for winter, and goes down the stairs, jumping two in two steps. Heaven is not much different from the human realm, it looks smaller, but feels bigger in a way that can only be explained as a place you could walk for eternity and never find an end, or ever trip over the same rock twice.

He doesn't feel particularly rested, it's been centuries since the last time he actually practiced sleep and although it came easy, muscle memory that he wasn't aware he had, also turned everything weird. It's a tingle at the pit of his being, forcing itself out of Renjun, but never actually doing so. Something is bound to happen, but he can't fathom what. 

He wonders if he should look for the creator. She was probably too busy, though. Apocalypse and all. He stops mulling over it and walks to the gates, head heavy. 

Renjun doesn't have emotions, at least not in the way she had them, none of the celestial beings have, this was reserved for humans and humans only. It wasn't a bridge they needed to cross and Renjun never saw a problem with that, but as he stands on Earth and watches the gash bleeding out in the skies above and the blood pooling around his ankles, he can't help but feel like a part of something essential within him was tore apart. 

The skies are a pallet of colors that fade into each other until they are forming no color at all, something falls from the clouds but it doesn't bring relief, it burns. A man runs past him, screams pure agony, and Renjun watches the path of blood his barefoot left on the ground. Renjun follows him.

The end of the world takes seven days, most of them are bitter and metallic, and Renjun works non-stop. Some souls run towards him, draping themselves around Renjun and inhaling him till their pain is replaced by peace only death can give. Others, however, make him sweat for it. A child runs from San Francisco to Iraq in a desperate attempt to find her mother, and when she finally realizes Renjun is the end, her tears soak his coat, her tiny and translucent soul quivering on his arms. 

By the end of the sixth day, the world came back to normal. The gash healed with nothing but a tiny scar as a reminder of what happened, and weed growing from where blood was planted seed. Renjun sighs and stares at the sky, the cloud above him is smiling, he never saw this one before and Renjun is not surprised but he thought she would start it all over again, not from the crumbs. He decides, before fixing the coat around his shoulder, that once he's back, he'll ask.

The penultimate soul comes to him, an old lady that opens her arms for Renjun with such warmth that he can't help but sink into her arms with untainted welcomeness. He holds her hands gently, wrinkled with hard work and the touch of Time, and closes her eyes with a tender kiss in each eyelid. She goes just as she came, with the strength of someone who knows better than battle life.

Renjun sighs, a tired smile lifting the sides of his mouth, and then, starts his walk to Jilin.

I

Renjun arrives somewhere between three and four in the morning. The tree branches are thick with snow and his breath condenses into his own, tiny, clouds. He burrows his hands on his coat, footsteps leaving traces that will disappear before sunlight can swallow the crumbs left by night.

He passes Ziguangyuen Hotel and for a moment, expects to hear the lively buzz coming from the place, the horde of tourists with their cameras spurting out of bags too heavy for a place so cold, he attunes his ears for the sound of children running with boots that although will keep them from freezing to death will also make them less fashionable than a shiny questionable pair of snickers would make. Renjun is both relieved and terrified that the only sound that graces him is silence.

He's not sure for how long he walks, but when Wusong Dao finally comes to his vision, he realizes it must have been longer than he thought, Wusong Island is just as cold as he remembers and still perpetuates its reputation even on the last day of the world. The white trees lunge through the landscape as he chases it down, and rime forms at the tips of his hair, sliding down to his nose when he shakes the strands with the tips of his fingers. 

Renjun looks in his pockets for a pair of woolen gloves, even though he's still not in need of them. _It's just out of formality,_ he thinks to himself, _you shouldn't walk in snow without gloves._

Renjun stops in front of a small cobblestone cottage, a chimney lined in the utter part of the roof puffing clouds of smoke, a miscalculation in the construction maybe. It looks old, and well-used, the walls have small white flowers that could grow nowhere else slipping through the cracks. He sighs and then takes a step inside.

He's surprised by how warm the place is, by how fast his hands become clammy inside the gloves. Heat dribbles down the walls with the same delicacy tears run down a face of joy. Renjun barely has time to think what to do, and a door from the other side of where he supposes is the living room, opens wide to reveal a man with just as warm brown hair that steals the air out of Renjun's chest.

Renjun is used to both the beauty and the beast. He knows better than to let himself be dragged by the black holes of pretty, twinkling, eyes or beat a hasty retreat at the sight of scars that cuts a person in half. He has seen the crumbs of men, the shadows of women, and knows that the only moment humanity is truly beautiful is when they lay bare on his arms. 

But this man, a scruffy beard growing at his jawline in a lazy trail and lit up eyes staring at Renjun as if he's nothing but one of the teacups sitting on the handmade shelf above the fireplace, he is a craft beyond beautiful. Renjun stares because for how much thought he puts into it, he can't find a word capable of describing the man standing not even ten meters from him.

His beauty doesn't fit the rough of handsome but is a size too big to be placed in the narrow box of pretty. Renjun wishes he could ask the creator, she has words for everything. 

"You shouldn't take off your gloves," Renjun grew unused to human voices that aren't in the cacophony of the end, and the man's quiet tone makes him jump inside his own skin. If the other notices, he doesn't say anything, "It's still cold inside."

"I don't need them." He answers, the words sliding out of his mouth before he can even understand what's the matter at hand. 

"I see." 

Renjun fumbles through his pockets once again, this time with purpose, a hazardous buzz under his nails, making the raw part of him that resembles nothing the creator want to tear apart his own skin until he can turn the buzz off, shrink back to silence. He does none of these, instead, he finds a small leather notebook.

He's quite surprised is still here, Junhui, the archangel who usually shares quarters with Renjun, has an awful habit of organizing things the way he wants and never telling Renjun. He opens the notebook at the last page, and right at the bottom, a name in bold and tall strong letters proudly shows itself.

**_Lee Donghyuck._ **

Renjun stares at the period after the name for a moment too long and turns to look back at the man. He had gone back to his work, adding log to the fire, his hands dangerously close to the wildfire.

"Are you Lee Donghyuck?" He asks, voice even. The man, _Donghyuck,_ nods without taking his eyes from the fire, hands still between the flames. Renjun watches it too with famished interest until he notices that Donghyuck's hands are, in fact, getting burnt. 

Renjun braces himself for a headache, and dives towards the other, pulling his hands from the fire abruptly. He holds them between his own, and can't hold a taken back smile when he sees they're almost the same size. The fact though soon disappears from his mind along with his smile when he understands the implications of what just happened. 

"You're alive," He whispers, not standing to say it out loud, it'd make things much more real and Renjun is just so tired. 

Donghyuck looks at him, eyes unreadable. "I shouldn't be?"

Renjun holds their hands tighter, Donghyuck's coldness striking against his warmth. "No, you shouldn't."

They don't say much after that, Renjun's thoughts running wild while Donghyuck's gaze never leaves their intertwined hands. When Renjun finally decides Donghyuck's fingers won't fall off, he lets them go, standing to his feet. Donghyuck never moves, just keeps sitting on his legs, head lifted so he can look at Renjun. He looks a different type of staggering like this, a flame so weak that it can only shine where it is. It's funny, Renjun never registered how beautiful humans can be _before_ they die, but he simply can't find anything other than life that'd fit Donghyuck so well. He crouches down and taking Donghyuck's hands in his, he wears each finger with the woolen gloves in a dedication akin to worship. 

"You're gonna freeze out there," Donghyuck says, not a trace of emotion on the way his voice quietens at the last word. Renjun asks himself if perhaps, Donghyuck is not also a celestial being.

He shakes his head, _impossible._ "I won't. I Promise."

Renjun never promised anything before, isn't sure why he decided to do this _now._ Donghyuck just stares at him, and before Renjun can think twice, he pats the other's head. Where he touches, the dry strands burn his skin, Renjun gets back to his feet and doesn't look back before leaving. 

II

Renjun finds Her in the garden. 

He used to think it was just a cheap comparison of Eden, a way for The Creator to cope with what the snake robbed from her. But as the years went by, it was like the place grew each breeze more enchanting with the most exquisite plants trailing up around the moss walls circling the place, grass so green they could be as well thousands of treads of emerald or jade, the soil under his feet welcomed any root that was sowed in heed and the stream of water that you could never see the spring shined like something greater than diamonds under the caressing sunlight. The true lure of the garden, if one were to point, it would be no doubt the flowers that grew anywhere the sun was, shying away from shadows, soaking in the warmth and quenching their thirst in the clean waters of the stream. Some were small, with petals painted with streaks of purple intertwined with blue and yellow in a way that should not be so idyllic, other tried their luck with large petals, each a different color, and a few that didn’t care much, drowned themselves in million of hues where now you couldn’t distinguish which ones were used for how hard you tried.

In the middle of the garden, there was a circle of rocks, most of them showed clear signs of time, but some were fresh and shiny, not being in the garden for too long. Renjun pets some clinging vines that curl around his ankle until they get distracted with something else and leave him to his own. The Creator is lying on a made-up bed of dry mud, long white strands crowing her face like a halo, her eyes blinking back the same blue that paints the skies. 

“How is he?” Her voice is not particularly outstanding, tone inflexible, and echoes just as the same. It’s bland in a way that makes you want to mold it, but you’d never dare to do it, mostly because it feels like taking this characteristic away would just change what she is at the core. A voice that is neither pleasant nor unpleasant. A fair ruler.

Renjun sits by her side, his black clothes striking in a funny way against all those colors engulfing him. 

“Did you know?”

“Did I?”

Renjun scrunches his nose, he wasn’t fond of question games. She smiles, “No, don’t get mad. I’m joking. It’s been some time since I last saw him. Donghyuck-ssi, right?”

The last part is switched from the common divine language to Korean, it’s not spoken with fluency rather, it’s like she’s a local herself, familiarity intricate in each vowel. 

“We didn’t speak much. He seems… Confused?” Renjun says, the last part changing into a question. Donghyuck didn't actually look confused, but he didn’t look anything else either. Maybe Renjun is the confused one.

The Creator seems to be on the same trail of thought he is, but she just smiles, shaking her head in genuine amusement. 

“Don’t rush. He’s the last one. Give him time if that's what he wants, it will be my last concession to humankind. Besides, the boy has been on his own for the last seven years, and some company will do him nothing but good.”

Renjun hums and lays beside her in the mud. She turns her head to meet his eyes halfway through and grins, the dimples on her cheeks deepening as it becomes a proper smile. Her sight only already makes him feel better, her blue eyes emerging as an oasis in the middle of the desert, umber skin glistening healthily, white hair like the clouds moving swiftly just like she moves. Renjun reckons there’s comfort in beauty, The Creator and heaven's creatures were the proof, but he always thought perfection was something you had to pay to have at your will. 

“Stop thinking, Renjunie,” She says, adjusting her position a little so Renjun can slip into her embrace, resting his head on her chest. It’s calming like the sea before a storm, but somewhere inside, he fears he’s the only one who will face the crawling monsters that hide beneath the water. 

“Don’t you miss Eden?” He asks, suddenly. 

She hums, and when he lifts his head to look at her, she’s staring at the flowers on the other side of the garden. Something distant clouding her face.

“When I first thought of Eden, it was just like this. A garden in Heaven where I could have fun all by myself. When I thought of Lucifer, it was something completely different from me. I expected him to roar through the seven doors of heaven, make Kun crazy with the jingle of The Hundred Bells, and pester the angels to teach him the secrets of each of the Seven Trumpets. Lucifer is the same as me, and we could not be separated as humans wish. He’s my mirror, the other part of me, and something entirely else, all the same.”

She sighs and makes a pause, a long one. Renjun waits in silence. 

“I wrote him millions of stories, crafted the brilliants to enhance what he has the most beautiful and I loved him to the point I’d step down my throne and give it to him, only had he asked. However, I noticed as soon as I finished him, but tried to blind myself. How could I give my love to a creature that can’t love back? I realized then, I committed a mistake.”

“When I first thought of humans, it wasn’t exactly as I molded them. I wanted to love them, and I wanted them to love each other. I gave them my own heart and said “love ” and hoped it to be enough.”

“And I gave them a choice. Follow me, or create your own world. I thought they could see just by looking at me. Creation is a rather miserable path. It was my mistake. They were too much like me.”

She pats his hand, her palm is usually warm but today burns his skin in cold. 

“Eden is a reminder of my many mistakes but this garden…” She trails off for a moment and watches the place with wild amazement as if will perpetually be the first time she steps in the paradise. “Here lies each true love that somehow had taken form in the chaotic realm of my selfish desires. Each being here is love in the purest form, something that will go beyond me, Time, Death, and any other plague.”

She looks back at him, eyes serious, and finishes it in a single breath, “So the answer to your question is no, I don’t miss Eden.”

Renjun nods, and figures that he was right. You _do_ have to pay a price for perfection. 

III

Renjun finds himself back at the cobblestone cottage. This time with a basket. And duvets. 

He also knocks on the door, scolding himself for his lack of composure the last time he came. Truth be told, half of him hopes for Donghyuck not to be home. Then he can go back to heaven and complain until someone else takes his place. It wasn’t a mature choice, but the world was ending and Renjun _really_ could use some sleep. 

When Renjun is ready to turn on his heels and disappear, the door behind him opens and standing in the doorframe, more alive than ever, is Donghyuck. His hair looks a bit darker and he clearly shaved not long ago, he also got a bit taller, not much but enough to show Time had paid him some visits. For the first time since he first descended to the mortal realm, Renjun wonders what’s exactly the difference in how time works in heaven and earth. 

Donghyuck seems a bit out of breath, heat creeping up the sides of his neck and maybe emotions are just too out of hand for Renjun because whatever goes through Donghyuck’s eyes when he recognizes him, he can’t identify. 

“Oh, you came back.” The other says in lieu of greetings, giving him passage, and Renjun can’t help but marvel at how out of the world Donghyuck is.

“You could be an archangel.” The words jump out of his mouth as he enters the house, not giving him time to think them over. Donghyuck cocks an eyebrow at him, motioning for Renjun to follow him into the kitchen. 

“How specific. Usually, people will say ‘you look like an angel’ or something.”

Renjun's eyes go wide and alarmed, he says, “But angels aren’t beautiful! They don’t even have a corporeal form.”

Donghyuck opens a pan that looks too big to fit the stove, the smell that comes out of it is unalluring in a way Renjun doesn’t remember food to be. 

“I thought archangels were soldiers. How can soldiers be more beautiful than angels?” He asks, using a wooden spoon to taste the soup. After a second or two, Donghyuck nods to himself, shuffling to the side so gracefully Renjun can't help but follow him as if enchanted. 

“Beauty can be as lethal as a blade,” He says, in a somber tone just to complete in a more laid back manner a few tense seconds later, “But that has nothing to do with nothing. Archangels are pretty because The Creator wanted them to be.”

Donghyuck laughs, the sounds filling Renjun’s ears like the sound of the sea in a shell. It sounds close, but it’s farther than one could understand. 

“I see. Thanks, anyway.”

Renjun frowns, “What are you thanking me for?”

“For saying that I’m beautiful,” Donghyuck gives him a lopsided smile, turning his back to Renjun and arranging the table with two plates, two cups, and cutlery for two. Renjun pretends not to feel the heat at the tip of his ears and only watches the other. “Are you hungry?”

Renjun doesn’t need to eat. None of the celestial beings do. “Sure.”

IIII

“So,” Donghyuck starts, halfway through the soup, to which Renjun pretends to like but in reality, Donghyuck can have a thousand talents but cooking is not one of those. “Did you come to kill me?”

Renjun lets out a wince when he bites a poorly cooked carrot, and looks up at Donghyuck, “I don’t kill humans.”

“No?” Donghyuck asks, a hint of amusement in his smile. 

“No, I just help the souls move forward.” 

Donghyuck nods, finishing his food and pushing the plate aside, using the empty space on the table to support his elbows and prop his chin on his hands. He watches Renjun carelessly, not afraid of being impolite or misunderstood. 

“Oh, Grim Reaper, then?” Renjun winces again, this time because of the suggestion. 

“ _No,_ only Renjun.”

Donghyuck smiles, like a cat that got the mouse walking directly into his paws. Renjun shrinks into himself. 

“I see, _Renjun.”_ His name leaving Donghyuck’s lips gives him an anxious feeling. An expectation, almost. Like it’s an unfinished phrase, even though Donghyuck doesn’t look like he will say anything else.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I’m doing here?”

Donghyuck studies him, then shrugs, “You can tell me if you want, but if I’m not going to die, then I don’t really care that much.”

Renjun sighs in relief. Even though Donghyuck’s priorities were quite concerning, he was happy he didn’t have to explain himself any further. 

“There’s a lot of things worse than dying.”

“Like what?” Donghyuck smiles, and it’s clear that he doesn’t believe him. Renjun is once again reminded how naive and arrogant humans can be. It shouldn't be so endearing in Donghyuck as it is. 

“Eternal solitude. Years and years just by yourself, where the only sound that you ever hear is your own breathing, not even the echoes sparing you an answer. The only eyes you ever see are yours.“ He stops there, watching regretfully the way Donghyuck goes pale.

They sit in silence for who knows how long, Renjun staring pointedly at his fingers as Donghyuck’s unmovable gaze bores holes in the wall behind him. 

“That surely sounds miserable.” 

“You must know how it is to some extent, you lived here by yourself all these years.” 

Donghyuck looks at him like he has no idea what he’s talking about. “That makes no sense, I knew you were coming back.”

Renjun swallows hard, it makes the uncomfortable tingle that had been following him around dissolve into butterflies on his stomach. 

“Well, I won’t be leaving soon. Don’t worry.”

Donghyuck looks taken aback, and behind him, sitting inside a messy carved box there are Renjun’s woolen gloves looking well used. The butterflies fly up into his mouth. 

“You promise?” Renjun heard thousands of humans promising things before, heard thousands of others wailing at those same broken promises. Renjun himself particularly doesn’t feel like the one to make promises he can’t fulfill.

“I promise.” Donghyuck smiles and the butterflies fly out of Renjun. 

IIIII

Somewhere above, a new root grows in fertile soil and a divine laugh shakes heaven's ground.


End file.
